Lobelia of the Ring
by Laura Andrews
Summary: What happens when Frodo doesn't listen to Gandalf and carelessly uses the Ring? Lobelia is always sneaking around making trouble; now the whole course of history is about to be altered by an old Hobbitess with an umbrella. Very AU. Complete, but also open to suggestions for continuing!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Lobelia tiptoed around Bag End; she bypassed old Gamgee as he cut back the roses, and young Gamgee as he mowed the grass, and the young Took and young Brandybuck as they wrestled and tussled on the walkway.

She peered in a window at the side and saw her target: Frodo. The lad was a Brandybuck, no matter his born name. Baggins had never fit him, and never would. He and Bilbo had brought shame and unpredictability upon a most respected family, and for that she would never forgive them (for that, and depriving her of Bag End). But at the moment she was concerned with a further besmirching of the family honor, which she suspected was soon to occur.

She gave a furtive glance 'round and resumed spying. Lotho should be at the front door by now; how long did it take? At that moment she heard her son pounding on the door.

Frodo looked up, startled, and reached into his pocket. In less time than it took to say _Bob's your uncle's second cousin's grandfather,_ there was an empty space where Frodo had sat. There was no flash of light, no loud bang, but there it was: he was as vanished as old Bilbo at the birthday party. The papers on his desk remained undisturbed, but Lobelia did not. She clapped her hand over her mouth before a shriek should give her away.

Lotho banged on the door once more as she had instructed him, and then, silence. Lobelia remained with her eyes glued to the spot where Frodo had been and sure enough, after several seconds, he reappeared exactly as he had been. He reached across the desk, dipped his pen in ink, and continued as if nothing had happened at all.

*1*1*1*

"I tell you he disappeared, Lotho!" Lobelia snapped her whip at the pony, as if in warning to her son. "Or vanished, more like. He didn't go anywhere, he was right there when he came back."

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't," Lotho drawled. "I can't see as how it makes much difference. I don't want to see him anymore than he wants to see me. Besides, I'm hungry."

"You'll be hungry before I'm through with you," Lobelia growled, glaring at her son. "You eat entirely too much, even for a hobbit. It makes you slow-witted."

The trap clattered on as Lobelia seethed in silence. Her eyes had not deceived her: just as Sandyman had said, Frodo could vanish. Apparently it was some magical device he and Bilbo had. It was not fair; more than that, it was not right. Not right at all that they should have Bag End, and perpetual youth (Frodo already showed signs of that), and more money than they knew what to do with, and be capable of disappearing at will. Added to all that, her own son was a fool who couldn't see opportunity, no, not if it jumped up and hit him over the head.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, as the idea struck her.

"What is it?" asked Lotho.

"Nothing; mind your own business," she said.

She'd talk to Sandyman the next chance she got. In the meantime, she would not breathe a word to anyone else about it. Lotho would forget the whole thing after a large meal, and Otho, bless his soul, was doing too poorly to be troubled with such things even if she had the inclination, which she hadn't.

Of course, Lobelia was not one to miss a chance when it presented itself, Sandyman or no Sandyman. The next day, walking down the lane, she rounded a bend and saw that Frodo was ahead of her. He seemed lost in thought: hands jammed deep into pockets, head down, whistling in starts and stops.

It took Lobelia only a moment to decide on her course.

No one could say the old hobbitess was not spry, nor that she had lost the ability to approach her prey silently (she had been an excellent rabbit hunter in her day). Frodo remained oblivious as Lobelia caught up to him. He heard nothing as she walked along a step behind. And so it was only natural that he should have no warning when, as he paused in his walk, the polished bone handle of Lobelia's umbrella struck him in the temple and dropped him in his tracks.

 ***1*1*1***

Lobelia almost crowed with triumph as she knelt beside Frodo's prone body. It only stood to reason that, seeing as Bilbo had become peculiar only after his travels, he must have brought back more than gold and strange guests with him. If she could find it, then perhaps things would turn in her favor for once. It must be in Frodo's pocket, for that was where he had reached when he vanished, and where Bilbo had had his hand that night of the party; and to do it so naturally, without a second thought, meant that Frodo must keep it in his pocket all the time, ready for use.

Lobelia emptied his right hand weskit pocket and drew out a long silver chain, attached to which was a plain gold ring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It had been two weeks and still Lobelia had not dared to try on the ring. But things were turning in her favor as she had predicted. Ever since the day she had waylaid Frodo, he had not been right in the head. She had thought he was cracked before, right enough, but this was different. He had changed somehow, and it wasn't just those who disliked him who were talking. She'd heard from Sandyman that his son Ted had heard old Gamgee say that his son Sam had said that Frodo wandered around muttering to himself and seemed to be looking (on the sly) for something, though he'd not say what it was.

Some days he was laid up in bed, with no ailment that the doctor could find. Like as not, he knew that his days of good luck were over and was now sickening for his end; he had no heirs that Lobelia knew of, and really no one could contest the right of the Sackville-Bagginses to Bag End even if he did leave it to one of his more distant relatives. Yessir, if Bag End didn't find its way into her hands before the year was out, it would be a wonder.

Lobelia had said nothing about the ring to Sandyman, nor to anyone else. Sandyman had brought up the subject of Frodo's vanishing trick a day after she had found the ring.

"Did you ever go up to Bag End and see what Frodo was up to?" he had asked.

"No, I never did," she had said. "To tell you truth, Sandyman, it sours me to go up there and see a house that ought to be mine and isn't. I only go there to try his patience anyways, and sneaking about without his knowing it doesn't appeal to me. I'm sure your eyes were playing tricks with you."

"Ah, but then who was it knocked him over the head?" he asked, with a knowing glance at her umbrella.

"Sandyman, you are the worst one for speculating I've ever known. Why don't you ask him yourself who did it?"

He had retreated further into the corner of the Green Dragon, relit his pipe, and muttered something about not being on speaking terms with the Bagginses; and so the subject was dropped, much to Lobelia's relief. The ring was no business of anyone's; she was only fortunate that it had been she, and not Sandyman, who had found it. It was hers, after a fashion; for if it belonged to Frodo then it would go to his heirs (or whoever could get their hands on his house and fortune), and no Sandyman had a right to it.

Three weeks to the day after she had knocked all sense out of Frodo, that meddling wizard came back to the Shire.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Lobelia was not one to cower in hiding, even when unwanted guests came to the door. There was no one more unwelcome than Gandalf, but even so she opened the door at his knock (with the end of his staff; the nerve of some people!) and looked up at him with undisguised dislike.

She said nothing.

"Mistress Lobelia," Gandalf began. "I beg pardon for this intrusion. However, there are a few questions I would like to ask you."

"Ask away," she said. "Answering them is my business, though."

"I have come to the Shire in haste, at the request of Frodo. A very valuable possession of his has … disappeared."

Lobelia had been expecting this to come up. But his choice of words was disconcerting. She looked him straight in the eye.

"I could have told you that years ago," she said. "He's not missing only one valuable thing. Self-respect, sanity, a sense of the family honor; as far as I know he's never had them. Thanks very probably to you and Bilbo, who couldn't leave well enough alone."

"If you are referring to an incident in Bilbo's younger days when he, shall we say, vanished, for a certain period of time, yes, that was my doing. What came afterward, however, was as much a surprise to me as to anyone."

Lobelia met the eyes of the wizard without flinching, though a cold fear gripped her insides. He knew. He must know. And after all, he was a wizard. What might he do to her to get it from her?

"If you will pardon me," she said. "I expect guests within the hour, and I must finish preparing for them."

She began to retreat, in a manner calculated to seem careless, but Gandalf stopped her.

"Lobelia." His bushy eyebrows caught her attention as they slanted downwards. "Do not attempt to lie to me. The Ring is in your possession. You have stolen it from Frodo."

Lobelia huffed out a laugh. "I would not say stolen. Certainly not. If the ring is Frodo's, I knew nothing about that. It came to me quite by accident. Do I look like the sort of person capable of knocking down such a strong lad, much less rendering him unconscious?"

"May I come in?" asked Gandalf. "I promise you that I have no intention of taking the Ring from you; I merely wish to talk, and our subject of conversation is suited far more to the indoors."

She hesitated only for a moment. If indeed he meant to steal her ring, she would rather it did not make such a scene. The fewer who knew she possessed it, the better. She moved inside and held the door open.

"Would you like some tea?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Lobelia rocked back and forth, back and forth in her rocking chair. Midmorning had passed into evening without notice. The wizard had told her things, terrible things. She clutched the Ring on its fine chain, seeing the strange, fiery words still, as if they had been engraved in her mind.

One Ring to rule them all. So the stories were true, all that nonsense she had brushed off about dark happenings and nameless creatures. There was a Dark Lord, who was strong and growing stronger, and she had his Ring; had stolen it, in fact.

She glanced over at Gandalf as he smoked his pipe by the fire, and horror came over her. This was how the adventures always began: the wizard, or some other person just as mad, set a hobbit's brain on fire with tales of valor and desperate deeds. What would her relatives think of her if she went off, as he had said she must, forsaking home and sense and all the comforts of a Sackville-Baggins' existence?

This home was, indeed, comfortable. She had everything to her liking, though she had never realized it until now. She had been pining and grasping for something better all her life: more than sixty years it had been since Bag End was almost in her hands, but even before that it had been her life's goal to possess it. Now she wished she had never heard of the place; wished that she was not related in any way to Frodo Baggins. Better yet, that the Baggins had never existed and that she had been born a plain and simple Sackville.

The Shire was home and she wanted to stay.

"I'll give the Ring back to Frodo," she said, her voice weak and timid in her own ears.

"If only you could." Gandalf sighed. He did not turn to face her. "It would, I am afraid, only make things worse. If Frodo knew it was you who had taken it, he would not rest until he had forced it from you, and you would be unable to willingly hand it over."

"I cannot leave the Shire! I am an old woman, too old for adventures even if I wished for one. You took Bilbo at the prime of his life and, by all accounts, he barely survived. Besides which, I have an ailing husband to look after. What would happen to him if I went gallivanting to some Elvish place? He's none too popular in these parts."

"I will go with you and help you." The wizard smiled ever so slightly. "It is no more than I would have done for Frodo. If the Ring fell into the hands of the Enemy, neither you nor I would survive. Now." He stood. "I must leave for the present. I will come for you in a week; in the meantime, do not put the Ring on, and do not breathe a word of it to anyone. If Frodo had heeded my words, this would all have turned out much differently."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Gandalf came again, as he had promised. Lobelia started at his knock and looked for a place to hide, but caught herself.

"I wouldn't act like Frodo Baggins for any money," she said, and marched to the door.

Gandalf entered immediately and closed the door with a thump.

"I hope you have heeded my words and left the Ring alone," he said.

"I have."

"Excellent. Now we must make plans as to what you will do. I am sure you have relatives who can care for Otho in a pinch?"

"Well," she said, slowly. "I suppose there are one or two who might be bribed."

"No, you must not tell them that you are leaving." The wizard sat down and cupped his chin in his hands. "We need to be out of the Shire and well on our way before anyone notices that you are gone."

"But he might die before I get back," Lobelia said. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "He's the only one who kept loving me all these years. How can I leave him when he's near the end?"

"Let me remind you that it was you who took the Ring and brought all this upon yourself. Bilbo chose Frodo especially to be his heir and the next keeper of the Ring; and I approved wholeheartedly of it. Frodo is, whether you believe it or not, the best hobbit in the Shire. And while he was foolish and careless enough to put the Ring on against my wishes, he would never have harmed anyone to get it; nor do I think he would have stolen it at all."

Lobelia huffed, but could not deny the wizard's words. "How could I have known?" was all that she managed to come up with.

Gandalf ignored her, deep in thought for a few moments.

"Write a note," he said at last. "Say that urgent business has called you away and that Otho is in need of care. Put money with it, and we will send the note to whomever you choose just before we leave."

"But when?" she asked. The words caught in her throat. The wide world was a place she had always prided herself in not being interested in. Not like those Bagginses, half-Took or half-Brandybuck as they were. She was a Sackville-Baggins. Those grey spaces on the edges of maps were for fools to wander in. She wanted to stay in the Shire forever. She wanted to be there, holding his hand, when Otho breathed his last.

Why had she ever taken the Ring in the first place? It was all Sandyman's fault, that's what it was. He'd gone poking and prying, just like a Sandyman, and gotten her into this trouble. And now he got off free as …

"Lobelia!" The wizard's voice hinted at impatience, and she realized he must have called her name more than once.

She looked at him, wondering if she looked as weary and afraid as she felt. She hoped she did.

"Prepare a pack for yourself; we leave tomorrow morning."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Lobelia woke in the night, clutching at the Ring. Someone was moving about in the darkness near her bed. There was a sound of breathing, muffled as if whoever it was was trying to hold his breath. Without a second thought, she slipped the Ring on her finger and drew herself up towards the head of the bed, huddled in a tight ball.

The intruder patted the bed as if trying to find someone or something. Lobelia reached out her hand, cautiously. Her umbrella was against the night stand. There it was. She closed her fingers around it, lifted it, and brought it down on the head (or so she hoped) of whoever it was.

Otho woke with a start and mumbled, "What's that? Lobelia, you there Lobelia?"

"Here," she said, hoping her voice did not tremble too much. "Go back to sleep."

He rolled over with a sigh. Lobelia struck a hurried match and lit the lamp. There, lying across the bed, was Frodo Baggins.

And what other reason did the best hobbit in the Shire have for sneaking into her house than to find the Ring? She laughed a bitter laugh. If she were stronger, she would drag him out and leave him in the road; then people would think he was drunk. Upstanding Frodo! He'd already done so much damage to the family name. What was a little more?

On the other hand, now perhaps was the chance she had been waiting for. She could put the Ring in his pocket for him to find. He could go with Gandalf, and she could stay at home.

She hesitated a moment before pulling the Ring off her finger. She bent over him, trying to remember all the reasons she didn't want the Ring; all the reasons it was only bringing more trouble and bad luck to her than she'd had in seventy years of thwarted hopes and dreams.

"Ma?" Lotho stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She closed her hand over the Ring and looked back at him, daring him to question the scene before him. He had long ago lost his fear of her, however. "What are you doing, Ma? Is that Frodo?"

"Yes it is," she said. "I found him sneaking about, the fool. And now what am I supposed to do with him? Be quick and get him outside, far enough from our house that no one will suspect anything, and leave him in the road."

"But Ma," said Lotho. "What's that thing in your hand?"

"Nothing," she snapped. "Do as you're told. And be quiet, you'll wake your father."

He came towards her, as if to do her bidding; but then he bent over and snatched at her hand. The Ring fell to the floor and shone in the lamplight.

"Aha," Lotho crowed, picking it up with a speed she'd never thought him capable of.

"Give that back to me!"

"But what is it?"

"It's mine, mine!" She clawed at him, but he backed away. She came after him and tripped over Frodo's prone body.

At that moment, Frodo began to wake up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Lobelia, Lotho, and Frodo sat in the parlor sipping tea. Lobelia eyed both of them. Frodo still looked dazed from his second encounter with the umbrella, and Lotho seemed to be deciding his next move. She'd gotten the Ring back from him, thank goodness. What Gandalf would have said if her greedy fool of a son had kept it. Although truth be told it might have done him good; a long journey on short rations was just the thing to make a man of him. And she would not have had to leave Otho.

Frodo stirred. He held one hand to the back of his head, and the other hand clutched the tea cup.

"Do you have it?" he asked. He sounded much calmer about it than she had expected. It would only last until the headache wore off, she was sure.

She had no idea if she should tell him, nor did she want Lotho to know anything beyond what he already knew. She would risk it all, she decided.

"Yes I do," she said. Then she nodded as imperceptibly as she could toward her son. Hopefully Frodo wasn't fool enough to speak about such things in front of him. "Gandalf already knows. We've … discussed what to do. I'll come over to Bag End tomorrow afternoon, if you want to talk about it." By then she and Gandalf would be off, and there would be no need for such an awkward conversation.

Frodo nodded and got up slowly. He seemed unsteady on his feet and his eyes were unfocused. "Then I will say goodnight."

Lotho showed him to the door and then came back.

"What's it all about, ma?" he asked. "Frodo Baggins of all people burgling our home! And what have you got of his? Is it that ring?"

"Enough of your questions." She rose, her bones protesting the lateness of the hour and the fall she had taken. "I'll make us an early first breakfast and then you should get back to bed."

"No ma, you're not getting rid of me like that; not this time you aren't. You've been talking with that wizard Gandalf; don't think I haven't seen him in and out as if you and he was best of friends. You've been mighty strange acting ever since the day Frodo was hit over the head in the lane. And then you nigh about bit my head off over that ring. Something funny is going on and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

"You're a fool, Lotho Sackville-Baggins, as I've said before today." Lobelia shook her finger in his face. "Meddling about with things that don't concern you. I've a mind not to cook you another meal for a month unless you promise to drop the whole affair."

 _Tap tap tap_. Gandalf. He would know how to deal with Lotho. She went to the door and let the wizard in. He followed her into the kitchen and seemed to take in the situation: Lotho with his bull dog look probably gave it away nicely.

"I see things shall have to be explained," Gandalf said when he had heard the story. "Lotho must come with us, I am afraid."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Lotho protested. "I just want to know what's going on. If we're not careful the Sackville-Bagginses will have a reputation just like the Bagginses."

"At least the Bagginses don't go about stealing and backbiting," Gandalf said, bristling his eyebrows at Lotho. "Besides, you know too much already and we can't have you blabbing to the neighbors before we're five miles away."

"We?" Lotho said. Lobelia had never seen her son so sharp before. "Do you mean to tell me that my mother is going with you on this mad … expedition?" He turned to her. "There has never been a Sackville-Baggins, or a Sackville, for that matter, who ever went on adventures. We haven't got any Tookish blood in us. Send this troublemaker back to Bag End where he belongs."

"Lotho Sackville-Baggins!" The wizard stood, and the air fair crackled with energy around him. "For once in your life, do as you are told. You are coming on this adventure if I have to tie you to my horse. This is a perilous matter and I have no time to waste on foolish hobbits who will run their mouths instead of listening."

Lotho sat quieter and straighter than Lobelia had ever seen him in her born days. His mouth, shocked and fish like, kept opening and closing without making a sound. There was silence for a few minutes, as Gandalf kept his fierce glare fixed on Lotho. Then the wizard subsided and sat down again.

"This quest will be difficult and dangerous," he said. "I will take you to Rivendell and there Elrond will advise us."


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

How she'd made it this far, Lobelia had not the faintest idea. She dug the point of her umbrella into the wasted ground and looked up wearily at the fiery mountain. Lotho gave her hand a quick squeeze.

"This is as far as I go," she said, her voice faint and raspy in her own ears. "I can't go another step, Lotho."

"We'll get to that Crack of Doom even if I have to drag you up there," he said. Her boy looked so different. He'd lost his fat and his pimples. He was positively skinny. But that old bull dog look had settled on his face as he spoke.

"Then you'll have to do it," she said.

 ***1*1*1***

He hauled her up there somehow, panting, stumbling, cursing the Bagginses.

"No," she said. "It weren't no fault of the Bagginses that we're here. It was my fault, Lotho lad. My fault."

And they were at the Crack. She stood. The Ring must go into the fire.

"Wait for me here, Lotho," she said. "Look out for Gollum."

 ***1*1*1***

She went into the scorching red darkness. At the edge she halted, looking down into the flames. She pulled the Ring on its chain over her head and looked at it. So beautiful. She had never thrown anything away in her life; why should she start now? And with something so precious and rare?

The Ring went onto her finger as if made for it. She would rule this land by the umbrella; she would restore Otho to health, and life if need be. And Bag End would finally be hers.

"I claim the Ring as my own!" she cried, her voice echoing hollow and much louder than she had imagined it would.

Outside, with her new powers of perception, she saw that Lotho had thrown Gollum down the mountainside to his death.

"The Ring is mine."

 _ **Finis**_

 _A/N_

 _And so, dear readers, we come to the end of this little tale. But I'm not finished. There are lots of things that had to be left out, obviously, otherwise I would never have come to the end; but if there is some part of Lobelia's quest that you'd especially like to see, drop me a PM and I might just write it! It doesn't have to be anything that actually happened in the book or movie, either; since this is AU, lots of things could have happened differently. Does she ride an Oliphant? Sneak in through the Black Gates? Jab her umbrella in the Balrog's face? The next chapters are up to you :)_

 _Thanks for reading, and for the many kind reviews I've received!_


	9. Many Meetings and Umbrella Whacks

Many Meetings and Umbrella Whacks

by request of Tinuneth (and also including Saiorse7's request for the meeting between Lobelia and Gimli)

*/*/*/*

Lobelia was none too comfortable, sitting at the table with all these elvish folk and that Strider, not to mention the dwarves. She had been placed right beside one dwarf; he had an immense beard and apparently thought showing off his riches would impress people. The gold chain around his neck, and the gold rings set with diamonds, didn't impress her a bit, though. She tried not to look at him as she ate. The food would have been much better if she didn't feel as though everyone was looking at her with those sly looks; elves were the worst for sly looks and supercilious glances.

Well, she wouldn't bother about them. If they didn't want her here, then they should have just said so. She would certainly never have had them to tea in her home. She sniffed and took a bite of the chicken dish (at least, she thought it was chicken; hard to tell with these outlandish dishes covered in all sorts of herbs she'd never heard of).

"And so you are a … relative of Bilbo's?" The dwarf was talking to her. She rolled her eyes ever so slightly (and felt a bit of pride that she could do so without it being noticed) and turned towards the speaker. She kept her nose tilted up as she looked at him.

"Yes, I am a Sackville-Baggins," she said, with entirely pardonable pride. "The Sackville side has a long and respectable history. If you'd like, I could recite the family tree twenty generations back, beginning with Bogtho Sackville. His mother was a Hardbox; that family has died out now; it ended with the most unfortunate death, by lightning strike, of Drolo Hardbox before he had married, and having no brothers or cousins to carry on the family name, naturally that line became extinct at once. But back to the Sackvilles …"

"It's all very interesting, I'm sure," the dwarf said in a patronizing tone. "But to tell you the truth, I was most interested in what brought you here with your … ?"

"My son." Lotho might be a bit of a fool, but he was worth ten of these dwarves, that was certain. "We came with Gandalf, the, er, the wizard." She had been about to say 'the old meddler' but had thought better of it at the last second. "On important business. I can't speak of it right now."

"Ah, your son." The dwarf smiled, his smile even more condescending than his tone. "I have also brought my son with me. His name is Gimli. I am rather proud of him, though, between the two of us, I think he has just a bit too much temper. Shall I introduce you?"

Lobelia nodded as regally as she could. The dwarf (was his name Bloin or some such; she couldn't remember, nor did she care) motioned to the other dwarf, who sat a ways down the table.

Gimli came closer with a foolish look on his face that she couldn't read, nor did she want to. Dwarves were an alien species and most likely didn't have hobbit emotions to speak of.

For the next age-long hour the dwarves plied her with utterly nonsensical questions, most of them relating to Bilbo. She answered as coldly and politely as she could, but her temper was rising. Her hand itched for her umbrella, which she had foolishly left in her room. The tipping point was Gloin turning to her just as the dessert was served.

"Did Bilbo leave his nephew, Frodo, in good health?"

"Good health!" she snorted. "It's been many a long year since the Bagginses were in good health. Thanks to you dwarves, who dragged him off on that adventure, where he left all his wits and good sense behind in some cave I suppose. I do assure you that I am here under extreme duress and in no way desire to be the subject of an adventure."

Here she found that the entire dinner party had stopped talking and eating and was watching the exchange with expressions of interest and amusement. All except Gandalf, whose brow was positively thunderous. Well, let it be.

Troin looked at her. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation … at a later date?" he suggested. Probably trying to be tactful, and even more probably not wishing to continue at any further date.

"Of course," she said, and then with immeasurable grace, "I hope that I did not offend with my words."

He did not reply. Everyone went back to eating. The sly, superior glances became much more apparent.

*/*/*/*

The gardens in Rivendell were not much to Lobelia's liking. They were too grand and airy. But Lobelia walked in them anyways, anxious to escape the atmosphere of the dinner party. She kept her umbrella hooked over her arm and pointedly ignored every elf who happened upon her.

Around a bend she suddenly came upon the two dwarves. Their names slipped from her mind again, but her dislike for them grew. The older one frowned and walked away, but the younger one stayed. He happened to be right in her path.

"Excuse me," she said. "I am out for a stroll … alone."

He did not move away, but gave her his arm. "I have always wished to hear more about Bilbo," he said in an eager tone. "My father has told me much about his adventures, but you knew him before he went away, and afterwards too. Would you greatly mind telling me some things about him? He's a legend amongst the dwarves, and I never thought I would meet someone who was related to him. In fact, except for when Bilbo visited us some years ago, I have never met a hobbit."

Lobelia let him go on in this insufferable manner, but the umbrella was handy this time.

"Gladly," she said through gritted teeth. "Nothing delights me more than singing the praises of my intolerable cousin." With a deft movement, she slipped her arm from Gimli's (ah, yes, that was his name), unhooked her umbrella, and dealt him a swift blow to the side of the head.

He was a bit taller than Frodo, so she didn't quite get the temple; but nevertheless he dropped like a stone (a large, hairy stone), out cold.

Lobelia could hardly help laughing. The oaf, apparently he hadn't the sense to know when to get out of her way as his father had.

She slipped the Ring on and walked down the path a ways so as to be free of suspicion. After all, a blow to the head would most likely knock all memory of the event out of his mind.

*/*/*/*

The Council of Elrond had gone on and on and on. Lobelia stole a glance at Gimli. He had a nasty bruise on the side of his face, where you could see it underneath that ridiculous beard. He kept giving her suspicious glances. She shrugged. Soon he would be gone, back to his home, and she would never have to see him again.

"We must send the Ring to the fire!"

Elrond's words pulled her out of her own thoughts. The fire? What fire was he talking about? Gandalf had said no fire could harm… ahhh, they must mean that mountain of fire, the one way out East where the Ring was forged.

She turned her attention back to ignoring the council until Gandalf said,

"But surely Lobelia cannot go alone."

"Certainly not." Elrond gave her a hard stare. "Though she has no right to expect help from any one present, with the behavior she has displayed, this quest is greater than she is."

"One moment." She had obviously missed something important. "Do you mean that I am to go to the … the mountain? Look at all these strong young elves, surely one of them can do it. I refuse to go a step further. I'm too old for all this, even if I wanted to go on adventures, which I don't."

The elves all recoiled in horror at her words. Cowards, the lot of them.

"Do you then give up the Ring?" Elrond asked.

"Well." She ran her finger around the edge of the Ring in her pocket. "Your house is safe enough. Why should the Ring go anywhere else, I should like to know."

Elrond's face was as eloquent as an eye-roll. "We have been speaking of this matter for hours," he said, in a tone far too patient. "We must destroy the Ring or this place will no longer be safe."

"So you want me to risk my life so that you can stay here in comfort, is that it?"

"Lobelia," Gandalf warned.

"Look at me!" she went on. "I am in my nineties. Oh, that may not sound old to all you long-lived folk, but I practically have one foot in the grave. I have already taken at least ten, perhaps twenty, years off my life just getting here in one piece. And let me tell you …"

"Lobelia!" Gandalf's tone was more insistent. She ignored him.

"I don't know where this mountain is. Nor could I climb it if I did. I'm a Sackville-Baggins. We don't go in for adventures, like some I could name whose blood is tainted by Tooks or Brandybucks. Yes, Bilbo, I mean you, you old fool."

"LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS!" Gandalf thundered.

He had interrupted her one too many times. She turned on him, righteous anger sizzling in her veins. He had risen and was coming towards her. Without a second thought she took her umbrella, stood on tiptoe, and thwacked him full on the forehead.

It was not a very devastating blow, as she could not leverage the full weight of the umbrella at such a height, but it stopped him in his tracks. The whole assembly grew quiet as Gandalf drew his hand across his brow and brought his fingers away wet with a few drops of blood. That umbrella-tip did have a sting.


End file.
